Irrepressible: We Walk into Hell
by AwesomePecan2
Summary: What he had done was near treason and without heeding the consequences that he was sure would follow, Canadia unwittingly deals the pre-mature hand of Fate and sets forth a chain of events that would destroy his life, and those tied to that line of Fate.
1. Beginning in the Snow

**EDIT: 6/5/12  
>AN-II: I've changed some parts in this prologue and chapter two has also been re-written. Thank you for your patience and I hope the slight changes I've made won't bother you too much. ^/^**

**Disclaimer: _Axis Powers: Hetalia_ does not belong to me.**

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Beginning in the Snow<span>

Bodies littered the ground.

Spears, arrows, swords, and many different kinds of weapons were embedded into hideous creatures and into beautiful beings; into the ethereal bodies of demons and angels. Black blood poured out of the dead demons, seeping into the celestial land and poisoning it. Gold blood poured out of the dead angels, seeping into the celestial land and rejuvenating its beauty.

A shadow passed over the ugly ground. White wings beat against the air, keeping the warrior afloat. An arrow flew straight through a small hoard of flying demons, hitting none and disappearing with a winking flash. However, they still screeched and howled as its pure energy erupted from the arrow in its passing, disintegrating the demons within a one-hundred meter radius and severely wounding those just at the edges.

The figure landed softly in a small patch of land that was not covered in black ichor or body parts. Scanning his surroundings, the figure's white wings folded in on themselves. With a brilliant glow they disappeared like scattering fireflies.

An impossibly beautiful and blank face lifted up to the sky, eyes – strange eyes like smooth, petrified ocean after a storm – partly opened as they gazed up to the grey clouds and glass-like sky. Great streaks of light could be seen, scattering across the sky or beyond the clouds, and with those great lights an enormous amount of energy and power would wash over the being then disappear the next moment.

They were Angels.

This one whirled around, drawing an arm back until the line of light from the bow to a white cheek solidified into an arrow. Long pale fingers let the arrow slip and it flew straight through three more demons. Pure oceanic eyes scanned the sky once again, not seeing or sensing anything.

His white robes fluttered around his elbows and knees like wisps of smoke around his armor, hair spun of light and gold swirling around his armored shoulders. Shadows graced and damaged the beautiful porcelain face as now dark, sad eyes gazed on forlornly upon the desecrated lands, littered with such disgusting things.

He sighed when his name was called, feeling two others land beside him. Archangels. Although they were larger than he was and fiercer than he was, he in no way felt intimidated or scared of them. He respected them and he listened when they advised him to keep his head. They were in the middle of a war and no one could afford to hesitate. So he nodded his head, face smooth as marble, and he composed his features so that they would not mistake him for being weak, and they flew off once again into the sky and beyond the clouds, above where most of the battle was taking place.

Seeing no other demons entering the vicinity, he spread his wings and flew off himself, keeping close to the land.

He ran afoul a few more demons a few more times. For the time being, this small battle of the war was over and all he had left to do was scout the remaining area. So he landed once again, wings disappearing, and scanned his surroundings.

Silently he walked; now subdued and timid. His head was not held as high as it should have been. His feet did not land with heavy steps – not confident and self-assured. His strange eyes did not look forward, determined and steady. He paid no heed to his destination for he let his feet guide him. He paid no heed to the time, though he must have been walking for ages. Before he knew it, his surroundings had begun to clear of dead figures and black stains.

Indeed he had walked long and far without realizing, for he suddenly found himself surrounded on all sides by pure white, what the humans would call snow; an old battlefield. The land, once tainted with the remnants of Hell, was being purified.

He could sense something amiss; something dark and foreign had trespassed, threatening the rebirth of the celestial land and its chance at new life. He scanned the vicinity slowly; more alert than he had been just moments before. He moved again, feet sinking into the snow without making a sound. He could feel himself nearing the source of dark power and once he was close enough he immediately located the threat.

A road stained black and red had been carved deeply and roughly. It could not have been more than twenty feet wide and thirty feet deep and it led far out of his sight. He could feel the heat of dark energy, pulsing and feeding off the pure energy of the snow, slowly tainting the land. It was raw and suffocating, too strong, so he was hesitant to walk in it. Perhaps once he had disposed of the threat and the energy dwindled away, he would come back and heal the forged road himself.

As he walked alongside of it, he could feel the energy growing stronger and more potent. But it was weak. So it was dying already, the source of the energy. The demon – because that was the most likely explanation – most likely came here to heal, and now it was drawing out the raw healing powers, claiming it and twisting it for its own use.

He could feel it immensely now, both strong and weak. His heart pulsed as soon as he laid his sight on the massive creature. The dying demon. His body shuddered again. His chest ached with sudden pain, perhaps for no other reason than a sudden swell of guilt and his own wariness. Despite it all, he stepped forward, bow in his left hand and his right in position to conjure an arrow.

At that moment, the large demon shuddered. Its blood, black and cursed, streamed out of its numerous injuries. Its ripped, leathery black wings that had been wrapped around its massive form rippled like water on the surface. A terrible sound, a deep rumbling accompanied by a poisonous hissing, emanated from its body, echoing all around so that he could not pinpoint the source.

He paused. Frowned. Tilted his head. He knew he should not be hesitating. He was still a warrior. He had his Lord to serve, people to protect. But a sudden, overwhelming sadness had consumed him.

He had always been an empathic creature. He had always been sensitive to the emotions of others: his brothers and his people. Though it was a sin, but because he had felt the emotions through his humans, he knew his brothers were capable of pride or anger or selfishness. The humans were the same, but they were a mess of feelings and thoughts, some capable of great evil or great good. But these demons were a different thing entirely.

All they felt were hatred and fury. They were greedy and jealous and so utterly prideful. In all of his life he had never seen such ugliness in any other creature he had ever encountered. And he had never felt such delicate emotions from one before.

It was faint, a brush of feathers against the exposed skin of his face and hands, but they were there. He knew he should not, but oh, how he knew them well.

The bow disappeared from his hand with an evanescent glow. He idly thought he would be crying by now, if he could in this form.

He stepped closer (the intense, dark energy had become more bearable), the weakening demon becoming restless as he did, snarling at him beneath the covers of its wings. He raised his hands thoughtlessly, yet fully aware of what he was about to do. He felt a vague pull on his body, he felt it on his mind; he could feel it in every part of his existence, though he could not say what it meant.

He rested his smooth, marble-white hands against the heated rough skin, letting his eyes slip closed, letting his warm power build in his chest. It swirled and expanded, growing stronger and stronger until it burst throughout his being and flowed through his outstretched arms into the demon before him, with no thought spared to the consequences.

If he should be killed for this, then so be it.

Beneath his hands, the shattered body trembled, and a sudden surge caused him to become acutely aware of the other's existence. Its snarls grew in volume in its discomfort as its previously slowly healing wounds closed rapidly. He could feel the skin stretching as its body grew, he could feel the muscles quivering and the blood rushing at the strain; he could hear it, the beating of its _heart_ like thunder. And then…

He gasped; a quiet cry of pain. He eyes snapped open in shock and he immediately recoiled from the demon. The ground beneath him quaked under the intensity of the renewed dark power, its potent energy consuming him in turn, knocking him flat on his back. Shadows loomed threateningly above him, a rage-filled roar nearly shattering the sky above. He barely registered his surrounding melting into ash, but his wide eyes were solely trained on the monster towering over him.

From his position beneath its underbelly, the demon was something else entirely. No longer was it the small, pathetic, dying demon it had been mere moments before. He could just make out its wolfish head attached to a thick neck, long horns protruding forward as long as the length of its head. He could hear the steady beats of wings beating down forcefully, venom dripping from its mouth onto the land, harming it further.

He instinctively – and inevitably failing – tried to push himself further back, only succeeding in pressing himself further into the land that desperately clung to his pure, weakened energy for life.

Then the mouth closed, its massive head lowering and smelling him like a curious animal. It raised its proud head back up, and with a final hissing roar, the ground trembled as it beat its wings one last time and took off.

Had he not been stunned and still recovering from the surge of pain, he would have searched the darkened skies wildly for the demon. But even if he had, the demon would have been gone, as if it had never existed, with a small flash of red lingering in his memory the only invalid proof of its former presence.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks to those of you still interested and have thus been waiting patiently for this and sticking by it though I've only posted two chapters. Updates will be slow-going but I will not abandon this! **I'm sorry for the delay in updating this fic but I was unsatisfied with the direction it was going before. Things will be moving slower than I'd initially intended, but at least I have a much clearer idea of what I want to happen in order to get to where I want to end up with this.****


	2. Secret in Flames

**Edit: 6/5/12  
>AN-II: I don't know if I did the right thing or not by re-uploading this, but I can definitely say I feel **_**so**_** much better with this than the **Chapter 2** I had previously posted. I hope you aren't too mad if you end up liking the previous version better, but I simply could not move on with the way it was. Besides, I think I have more to work with than before, so that's a plus for me.**

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><p><span>Chapter 2: Secret in Flames<span>

Canadia found himself there once again, in the middle of the now fully healed clearing. The sky was pure crystal, his surroundings lush with vivid green colors; dotted with pinks, purples, oranges, blues, whites of flora. The scars had run deep for a long while here, but Canadia had fulfilled his promise to aid and rejuvenate the land, restoring it to its former beauty. It had been a long and arduous task, but since he had been the sole being to care for this land, he had been rewarded. The land was now his.

A soft smile split across his face. He caressed the rough bark of a tree beneath his hand and felt the blades of grass bursting from between his toes. The ethereal scent of this field was fresh, inviting. The clean breeze was crisp and gentle; this place was a perfect substitute for his favorite clearing down on Earth.

He looked around, and while it was not an exact replica of that place in his land, he loved it just as much. It felt as much a part of him as his limbs. He breathed in deeply. He was content. And when he closed his eyes as to better feel this peaceful energy, he realized that had been a mistake. He let out a long, shuddering exhale.

It had allowed a vision of white and black and grey to invade his mind's eye once again. When he opened his eyes the white was gone, and along with it his memory of a new, perhaps undeserving, life.

He made himself walk into the forest and out of that clearing; there was suddenly too much life. Or was it not enough? After all this time, he thought he would have moved on. Too much time had passed but of course not enough of it had either.

In the Realms in which the gods and celestial beings resided, time was of very little importance. So these beings – beings of hope and prosperity, power and destruction – simply resided in the flow of their lives with no concept of day or night, no thought to a second or hour, with no impression of how precious such a thing was to a human, and yet…

And yet Canadia had found himself following the time of humans. He found himself counting down the hours and seconds. He found himself counting off the days and nights. He found himself counting down every single moment almost obsessively, as if his life depended on it. Four centuries. It had been Four long centuries since then. And now that he had a self-justified reason for following Time, he could now understand why they fretted so much over 'lost time' or 'too much time' or 'not enough time'.

In the beginning of that long time, he had found himself constantly crossing the bridge that connected to all the Realms; all but for that deep, dark underground. He had often found himself wandering back to the still then purifying land, wandering back into that cursed, slowly healing clearing in which he wandered now; now, beautiful and full of life. He had often stood in that very specific place, which had healed much quicker than its surroundings due to his presence, and he had waited. He still did. But what was he waiting for? _Why_ was he waiting at all? It was a lost cause, his – hope? Was that what he was feeling? Is this what she truly felt like?

But then why would Hope feel so empty and cold, as if a part of him had been misplaced and was now missing?

To this day, he still could not understand his desire to see that demon again; that demon he should have let die or finished off like he had initially intended. Maybe he wanted to see if it was all right, despite fully well knowing that it was alive somewhere. Maybe he wanted to satisfy some strange desire of his that he was not aware of. Because if he was not growing steadily mad, if he did not have fleeting thoughts of performing some sort of act of rebellion against all he had ever known, then he certainly would not have done what he had.

But the more time passed the more he grew anxious and restless. Anxious, and maybe even scared, because what was going to happen to him? He hid it well (despite there being no one to see or notice), his unease and uncertainty. For a while he had been left to wonder when he would give himself away or when someone would find out what he had done; something shameful and near treasonous. Blasphemy, even! And despite knowing the severity of his actions, he had a vague understanding of what the repercussions could or would be, though he at least knew he would surely be punished.

As a pure and righteous being he had not necessarily felt what Hatred was like himself. Canadia had felt his essence in others; in his humans and of course in those demons, but he had not been able to guess that _this_ was what raw and unadulterated Hatred felt like. Hatred was the guilt that strangled his throat and made him choke. Hatred was the shame suffocating him when he realized he had wandered into the field once again. Hate was the fear clouding his judgment and the nausea twisting his stomach.

Hate was that burning fire he felt for himself.

Canadia, just as everyone else is, or was, or had been, was always a good son and an excellent warrior. He loved the Father he had never seen, or met, or heard. He loved the imperfect children He had created. He loved his land and the human's that resided within, the ones he was born for. And now…

Now… what?

What could he do now that he was beginning to fall without realizing it was happening?

He felt it first as a prickling in his right arm, drawing him gently out of his foolish daze. With a frown, Canadia stroked the length of his arm from wrist to shoulder, thinking it was merely due to his immobile state, even though it had never happened before. But then there was a sudden, sharp pain that started in his shoulder, and was then dragged slowly down to his wrist as if he had been stabbed by a knife and it was being cruelly slashed through him to the bone.

Canadia cried in his throat, clutching at his arm desperately. Then, with a small outcry, he sank to his knees, bowing forward and cradling his arm in a vain attempt to make the pain more bearable. A flare of agony shot through his arm, consuming it in fire, causing bursts of white-hot pain to bloom behind the darkness of his tightly shut, inhuman eyes. He dug his fingertips into his arm. He leaned forward on his knees, forehead buried into the grass and mouth wide open in a silent scream.

With his body shuddering with every wave of pain that shot through him like lightning, he gasped deeply, unable to actually cry or scream due to the sheer intensity, and he forced himself to his knees again.

Why? Why was this happening so suddenly? What happened?

His heart thudded frantically in his chest, panicking and stuttering along with its host's pain. Taking deep, sharp breaths, Canadia struggled to his feet, one by one until he stood on violently quaking legs. Around him, the gorgeous greenery that had regrown over the last five-hundred years shivered with the painful energy emanating from his body in waves. And suddenly, with a heart-shattering scream that finally ripped itself from his throat and made the clearing grey sky tremble; he forced the pain back in order to concentrate on summoning his wings.

Two white orbs formed over his shoulder blades, and they could not materialize fast enough. He could feel his power and strength slipping, the white orbs of energy flickering and shrinking like a flame.

Just as he thought he would be consumed, flashes of red and orange and shadows flickered across his mind's eye. In his mind, there were echoes of humans screaming and crying, echoes of animals crying out in their own language; but be they human or beast, they were terrified; be they human or beast, they were all in danger. _His_ people and _his_ creatures were in danger and he would be damned if he just let himself be consumed and collapse and leave them to _die_.

With another scream, this time one of terrified determination, the energy materialized rapidly and his wings – wings thrice the length of his body – exploded out behind him, jerking his head back. The powerful agony seared through his arm again, but he bent his knees and took to the skies. The vast expanse of green and colors spread over hills and mountains sped by underneath him. He flew straight back to the Bridge that led him back here where he should not be. He beat his wings heavily, doing all he could to go faster, transforming his pain into strength and his desperation into will-power.

Finally the Bridge came into his sights and along with it were the impressive figures of dozens of Angels flying towards the Bridge just as swiftly as he.

With the burning pain searing through him, Canadia glided down and over one of the many paths that made up the Bridge; the Bridge that led to all Realms but for that deep, dark underground. He flew over that one path that would lead him to the Earthly Realm, that one path that would take him where he needed to go.

More images and echoes of his terrified and _dying_ humans and animals flashed through his mind as he barreled through the vine-wrapped pearly gates, the Guardian Angels of the people caught in the unkown disaster that had struck following immediately behind him.

Through a human's eyes, they would have arrived from their Heavenly Realm into the Earthly Realm in the blink of an eye. But to get to his birth-land, Canadia must travel through this white, expansive void that stretched on endlessly on every side, now thick in what seemed to be dark clouds and mist.

He could feel when he was nearing the end. It felt uncomfortable, like a crushing weight threatening to pull him down and keep him from his destination. He caught sight of the door, shining with ominous red light, and he barreled right through.

xXx

The flames flickered and grew, feeding off the wood of trees and the shrubbery on the ground. Shadows darted all around him. Shadows fleeing for safety and shadows surrounded by fire moved frantically, leaving high pitched squealing as they passed him.

All of it; all of the thundering fire, the cracking of wood, and snapping of falling trees; it all was a mere echo in his ears. The pain he had felt was because of this, because of this disaster that had struck, destroying this part of his home, this part of _him_ so cruelly.

He could hear his people screaming and yelling for each other, their loved ones. The pain spiked in his arm. Tears formed in his eyes and he bit back another scream. He knew he would not be able to help them in the state he was in. He hadto help them. He _had_ to.

"Canadia!" His eyes snapped open. He whirled around to meet another of his kind land in the middle of the fire, breathing heavily and raising his head to meet his own wide-eyed stare with something akin to the terror he felt for his people. Because it was every Hetalian's living nightmare that a catastrophe such as this would befall their home, their land, and their people. At the pure sympathy in his brother's eyes, Canadia could not help but choke and let his tears fall.

"Brittania!" He sobbed, reaching his hand out to grab ahold of his brother's armored one.

"You have to Change, Brother!" Britannia yelled over the roaring of the flames and the screams and screeches of the terrified beings here. "We will help from our end!"

"But–!"

"Do not waste more time, now go!" With those words, Britannia shot up into the black sky where Canadia could see the vague outlines of silver and white wings flying about or shooting off to find the ones they had been assigned to protect. As they worked hard to bring about the clouds and the rain, Canadia stole himself. Seeing the disaster that had struck brought about an acceptance within him that caused the pain to numb and he concentrated only on delivering his own aid.

Silence. A deep breath. Calm. Hold. Strength. Long exhale. Summon it. You must. For them. Become powerful for them, save them. Your life.

When Canadia opened his eyes, they were glowing white. A shallow wind picked up at his feet, swirling around him and gradually rising until his hair fluttered around his shoulders. His armor disappeared, leaving him only in his robes that swirled and floated around him like mist.

Summon it. All of your power. Bring out the rain yourself, and bring it down hard. Protect them.

It was like falling asleep. It was unnecessary for them, but advised, and it was a pastime Canadia indulged himself in when he could. Gently, peace took hold of him, a certain tranquility that made him the eyes of the storm. All around him the beautiful sound of heavy rain pelted down to his earth, soothing and frantic and hurriedly. The flames were beaten into submission and sizzling out with delightful hisses. After what felt like a century, the flames were tame enough for him to let his power slip from his grasp, but not all at once lest he become greatly drained.

With a gasp, he let the last of it disappear from him, and he fell to his knees. Yet as he regained his bearings, as the world around him stopped spinning, in the last of the still furiously burning flames he saw red.

Intense, familiar, dangerous red.

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><p><strong>AN: As I said in the edited Chapter 1,**** thanks to those of you still interested and have thus been waiting patiently for this and sticking by it though I've only posted two chapters. Updates will be slow-going but I will not abandon this!**


	3. Whispers in Ashes

**A/N: Hello, my dear readers! Thank you for waiting patiently (those of you still with me that is) and I hope you enjoy this. To those of you who read this way back around the time I first posted, you will recognize a certain portion of this but since I've moved/changed things around, it would be important to read. To my new readers, please enjoy and ignore this note!**

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><p><span>Chapter 3: Whispers in Ashes<span>

Canadia sighed softly, something he noticed he had been doing a lot lately, as he anxiously traveled his way over the Bridge. His rubbed at his arm, still sore and raw by the fire, but that was not the only thing bothering him.

Red. He was certain they were the same red from centuries before. Now more alive and incredibly bright, thanks to him. And seeing them in the fire begged the question: Had that demon been responsible? Canadia shuddered at the thought. It felt like he had been betrayed, but why would he expect anything else from a demon? Even if he had saved their life…

"Canadia!" As soon as he recognized who it was that was calling for his attention, Canadia paused in a fluid mid-stride, turning to greet the other Hetalian that caught up to him, landing elegantly from his flight with wings disappearing in warm scatters of fireflies, and robes wisping around his wiry figure.

He was shorter than Canadia, the top of his golden head just reaching his shoulder with a thin, golden ring floating just above his head. It told him of his higher status, despite them being of the same kind out of a special few. His pure emerald eyes, eyes as vibrant as everything green, met his with a gleam of sympathetic affection.

"Britannia." Canadia greeted in a soft tone and with an inclination of his head; a bow to convey his own respect and affection for his older brother, this older brother who had all but raised him and taught him all he knew. Britannia chuckled softly and slipped his hand into Canadia's, tugging him along back on his path gently.

Britannia was one of the few who knew of Canadia's unique ability to connect his emotions with others, be they human or angel, animal or demon. It had been his idea to keep quiet about it, but not hide it, for surely their Father had known since his Birth. So when their hands connected, Canadia was able to feel his brother's concern and – was that anticipation?

Canadia was pondering what sort of things Britannia could be expecting when he spoke, his accented voice echoing all around them and in his mind.

"You are headed to the Gate, yes?" He inquired in a soft, gentle tone. Was he expecting something bad? Was he suspicious? Canadia nodded hesitantly and hoped that his brother would not notice. He forced his hand to relax in the other's grip, holding on firmly as they calmly walked to the Crystal Gates that lead to the Bridge.

"I never thanked you for helping me…" He frowned, the memories flashing through his mind, and his heart clenched in pain. He raised his right arm, clenching his hand, causing the horrible sensation of fire to course through his arm once again, forcing him to recall that tragedy. Britannia squeezed his hand, his sympathetic emotions seeping in and comforting him.

"That is why I am accompanying you. It may not seem like it, being only your arm, but a large portion of you had been destroyed. I fear I am the only one able to help you, but you should not face this alone. Am I safe to expect you to allow my assistance?" The pair came to a halt when they reached the Bridge that would lead them to Canadia's land in the Earthly realm. Canadia smiled down at his brother. Yes, of course that would be the reason for his concern. He leaned down to nuzzle the side of his forehead to Britannia's in a display of affectionate gratitude.

Yes, of course… How paranoid he was becoming.

The Crystal Gates stood tall and wide before them, vines and small flowers winding around it and up the sides of the walls on either side of it. Beyond the Gate, they could see the other side of the Bridge; it's winding path eventually diverging into different paths that led to places beyond their sights.

Together, Canadia and Britannia raised their hands, pushing the heavy gates open and stepping out of their domain, following the path that would take them to Canadia's homeland.

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><p>Everything was soaked to its core. Everything was an ugly black.<p>

For a moment, Canadia could have sworn he was back on that battlefield; charred and black with poisonous blood seeping into the ground and tainting it. All around him, what had once been a forest was now ash and dead animals and naked trees. The burnt wood and shrubbery crumbled under his feet. The air was thick with floating ash that nearly blocked out the surely grey sky.

That battlefield covered in a thick blanket of white had been a cold sight. He could not help but wonder what it had looked like before the war. Before he had claimed it and made it a replica of this piece of land. One of his favorite pieces. Had it been beautiful? Had it been far and wide and clear as the waters in the spring? Perhaps it had been young and new, a place created just for he and his siblings to roam and nurture and love.

What had it looked like when the poison set it? What had it looked like as it fought for its life, only to succumb to its death? He had a feeling he knew now. It had been ugly and devastating. It had been painful for anyone to watch but while they and he had managed to stop the ferocious fire from eating away everything it could in his homeland, while in the middle of that old war, there was most likely nothing anyone could do to stop it.

"Can I ask what happened? I mean… besides the obvious?" Britannia had stayed behind to help him sort things out while the others had returned to their realm. Some stayed to watch over their dying humans and others left to ferry their dead human's souls to wherever it was they must go. Since they were not Hetalian, they could not help him with his land. This was why only Britannia stayed, watching him steadily with his eyes; eyes that were no longer the pure emerald they had been in his Hetalian form. They now resembled that of a human's, as did the rest of themselves.

Canadia gazed forlornly at the desecrated forest,_ his_ forest, as he absently ran his fingers over the white-gold plate armor now decorating his forearms. He once again recalled the sensation of his arm burning, he recalled the bright pain coursing through his arm, and he recalled his desire to rip the limb off. This time he could feel the tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He quickly wiped them away.

"I am not sure, really. I… I could just see the fire and I could feel… I really do not know what caused it." Even as the words passed his lips, he could not help but think of that demon and that red in the fire. Another wave of sorrow passed through him, but he dismissed it as best he could. Now was not the time to dwell on such thoughts. He turned his eyes to his brother who was listening silently, with eyes narrowed and a frown on his human face.

It was not necessary to have skin-contact to allow Canadia to connect with another's emotions, but as he was slightly weaker in his human form, he could not simply reach out with his will any longer. The cloud of ash may have been thick, and though he could not be certain, he could clearly see the expressions on his brother's face; those of suspicion and doubt.

"Brother? H-How did you know about this anyway? I mean, it is not your home and…," Canadia worried his bottom lip, stopped when he caught his nervous act, and waited as still as he could. Britannia's frown became deeper, his thick human brows furrowing dangerously into one indistinguishable blur.

"Canadia-," he froze at the sharp utterance of his name, "You have looked troubled for a while now. I believe for quite a few centuries, almost, so how could I _not_ notice something was wrong?" He went straight for the point, not even bothering to elaborate on how he _knew_ and when had he started to keep track?

Canadia clasped his hands behind his back as calmly as he could. So he had noticed? How obvious had he been, then? Four centuries had felt like a long time for him, but only because he had been keeping track. It should have been nothing more than a blink of an eye. He unconsciously began to worry his lip again. How long had it shown? Had others noticed then, too? Why had no one approached him sooner if he had been so obvious? Then again, no one other than his brother before him really paid him any mind, and he had not seen the few friends he had, as he had taken to wandering back _there _and it would have been terrible courtesy to intrude on him during that time.

Could he avoid it? Maybe he could still avoid it. No one else suspected anything yet, so just maybe…

"Oh. I… I am sorry. I did not mean to worry you…" He lowered his head, darted his eyes here and there but never lingering in the same spot for long before they once again connected with his brother's. Like he had been for the past two weeks, Canadia was acutely aware of the long seconds that dragged by. The thick cloud of ash began to coat their pristine robes and clean armor the longer their forms stood still.

"It is not just this, is it?" Canadia froze once again, blue eyes wide. Britannia clicked his tongue with a shake of his head and met his gaze dead on.

"As horrible as this is, brother, it is not just this that has been troubling you. If you do not want to tell me, fine, but I do not want you to lie to me about it or pretend that nothing is wrong, you understand?" All he could do was nod, a rush of heat rising to his face. Britannia's features softened as he stepped forward to clasp their hands together, his wrapped around Canadia's in a gesture of comfort and support.

"So will you tell me what is wrong?" He inquired gently. He gestured to the land surrounding them. "This. We can fix this. I can help with this. But if there is something else I could do to help you I would want to. If it is something bad, I do not want you to get hurt."

And at the honest concern gracing his brother's face, Canadia found he could not dismiss the offer. However, what would he say when he told him? He would have to eventually, for surely something like _that_ could not be kept secret for much longer. Canadia took a shuddering breath, averting his eyes once more.

"I… Brother, I did something… I think I can be punished for it, and-,"

"Punished?" Britannia exclaimed. "Canadia, what did you do?" Canadia winced, but he could not stop now, he suddenly could not keep it to himself any longer.

"Please! Please, listen, please! I… during the war four-hundred years ago, I wandered away from that last battle and I… I wandered into an old battlefield, and it was being healed. I had not realized I did, but then I felt something wrong. So I followed this path forged by some dark energy and when I arrived at the end… I found a demon…"

"A demon? Is that all?" Canadia sighed as he shook his head. He barely realized the snow that had started to fall around them, and he realized he did not want to stand any longer. They kneeled in the thin patch of green that had started to grow at both their presence. And thanks to the snow, the thick fog of ash slowly began to disperse.

"No, that is not all. I found the demon, but it was dying." He took a deep breath and though he could not lie, he decided to omit the part where he had connected with the demon, and of the hollowness he now bore in his chest. "I had intended to destroy whatever was preventing the battlefield from healing, but that is what I came across and…,"

"You healed it." It was not a question. Canadia lowered his eyes, nodding meekly. His brother knew him too well. They sat in silence for another while longer.

"It would be best if we admitted this." At this Canadia's head snapped up, panic rising in his chest.

"Please, brother. I know what I did was wrong, but-,"

"Oh hush! If you really wanted to, you would have told me sooner." Britannia gave him a dejected sigh. Canadia's hands gripped his brother's tightly, urging him to understand.

"If I do this, it can escalade, I know it. But… but something… I do not understand what it is, but I have a feeling it is something I must do." As the words passed his lips, he realized that it was true. Though he could not come up with a good reason for any of his late foolishness, he was at least _certain_ of this.

"Brother, please. You cannot say a word of this to anyone."

Small buds began to pop up around their legs and ankles. Patches of snow were scattered everywhere. Eventually it would cover the entirety of the damaged forest and the humans would be none the wiser, except for those rare few gifted with enough spiritual power to see it, and possibly them.

"Promise me you will be careful, at least." Canadia smiled, not brightly or in relief, but as a gesture of reassurance, but whether for himself or his brother could not have been said. Britannia offered a smile in return and moved to raise them both back up. "Let us get a move on. We cannot help your land if we just sit around all day."

At the reminder of his initial objective, sadness swelled in his chest as he took in the awful sight once more, though he was glad that a few inches of snow had already blanketed the ground. So the Hetalian brothers patted their robes and summoned their pure energy just enough so they would not attract any attention from those strong enough to feel them.

Canadia took another long look around, feeling something amiss but unable to tell what exactly it was. There was a strange bubbling in his chest. He dreaded it might spell another sudden disaster and yet he knew there was some vain hope within him that wanted something else, dare he even think he _longed_ for it. His fingers tingled the way they did moments before he found himself with a bow and arrow in his hands, aiming, then targeting, and finally shooting.

He only realized he was disappointed a long while later, when Britannia advised they return and rest. He thought he might have realized what that bubbling in his chest and that tingling in his fingers meant. It terrified him. How could he feel such a thing? His brother left with the best of wishes for him and the news that Italia would be here soon, and after more reassurances on both their parts, Britannia left for home before Canadia had the chance to summon up his courage and confide in him.

That bubbling in his chest had subsided, but it was still there, as if it were waiting in the shadows. It felt awful. Canadia felt like crying.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm sorry they're so short, but, eh… And is it just me, or does this chapter feel rushed and sloppy? Hmm… -3- And, I'm thinking about changing the title of this fic (actually I really, really want to) but I shall do so when it has been completed to save confusion. Let's see, am I missing anything…?**

**Oh! Prussia will hopefully come out next chapter guys! You know, if things go according to my not-really-a-plan… and stuff. And Canadia kind of sounds like an arcade/utopia doesn't it? :D Or is that just me? _**


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